


It's Still Making Noise

by which_chartreuse



Series: The Colors of Laughter [3]
Category: The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel (TV)
Genre: Deleted Scenes, F/M, Gen, I have the feels so I'm giving them to you, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Bad At Titles, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, Non-Explicit, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Outtakes, Scraps, Short, Vague, Vague Exhibitionism, chapter three is the long one, cut for time, cutting room floor, dead end scenes, incomplete scenes, influenced by Lenny Bruce's autobiography, soft, sometimes I write things I actually like but then can't fit them in with the rest of the story, there are some words we can't say
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:53:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24296161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/which_chartreuse/pseuds/which_chartreuse
Summary: A collection of bits and pieces from the cutting room floor of Honest Laughter. Some sections are interstitial to the chapters of the posted work, while others were originally part of the chapters. Some would have come after if I'd kept the story going. Some are fairly redundant.You don't have to have read Honest Laughter to read these, and you absolutely do not have to read these if you already enjoy Honest Laughter.---Title taken from Lenny Bruce on the Steve Allen Show April 5, 1959.
Relationships: Lenny Bruce (The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel)/Miriam "Midge" Maisel, Miriam "Midge" Maisel & Lenny Bruce
Series: The Colors of Laughter [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1734211
Comments: 14
Kudos: 50





	1. Room Service

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Honest Laughter](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23302882) by [which_chartreuse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/which_chartreuse/pseuds/which_chartreuse). 



> What follows has not necessarily been edited. All typos and mistakes are my own.  
> What follows is not necessarily chronological.  
> Some details were inspired by actual Lenny Bruce material.

The day disappears, and they don't leave the room. Miriam is fairly certain she has never spent this much time continuously occupying a hotel room. Even on her honeymoons, there had been sightseeing and activities to draw her away. She'll have to think of an excuse for the room service bill when Susie inevitably questions it.

It's easier to speak again, though they don't much.

Lenny asks about the teddy bears on her dresser, and there are some jokes about what other people's 'weird asks' might be. It's not a concept Lenny is familiar with, actually, and after theorizing that has something to do with his reputation, he wonders aloud why people wouldn't request things like washing machines or refrigerators.

“You could furnish a house in weird asks,” he muses over a club sandwich.

...

They don't specifically discuss the logistics, but it's somehow agreed that he'll come back after her show tonight. He watches her go about her preparatory routine, gazing with unveiled curiosity as she applies powder and mascara and color.

His look doesn't carry the same weight as the artist's, though it's just as constant. It isn't appraising, but a somehow focused distraction, like he's never noticed a woman dressing before. Which is preposterous, because she knows he was married once, too. It's flattering, though, to feel his gaze on her skin, to catch the bemused smile tugging the corners of his lips.

It's new to feel all these things with him, but also familiar. Something flutters in her chest when Midge catches sight of him at the back of the club again that night, but it's dissipated by the time she loops her arm through his at the stage door. It's miraculously comfortable to be pressed up beside him.

…

The awkwardness and the longing keep colliding with desire. It feels like high school one minute, when they're hesitating outside her hotel room, and like a wedding night the next, when they're through the door and too impatient to finish undressing. And then after, when they're curved toward one another, or tucked together, or leaning with their backs to each other and their feet tangled, it's like it has always been this way. The two of them...

Lenny sleeps so soundly beside her.

…

It's only a few days. It will end too soon, and Midge doesn't want to face what will come after. But it feels impossibly right right now. They slip back and forth between their public faces and their private intimacy, a familiarity that is growing exponentially.

And it's entertaining to fool the outside world, too. To joke and tease and banter. It's fun to take on the other comedians with her fast wits before putting them in their places and disappearing, back into Lenny's company.

…

They both know that the familiarity is incomplete, temporary. But for now...


	2. It's a Technicolor Christmas when you're Jewish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That mis-attributed quote, "write drunk, edit sober," should also apply to migraines and fanfiction. I can write under the influence of a migraine, but I should not attempt to format and preview, because I might end up accidentally posting something and then falling asleep... Which is how the first section went up as its own complete work! Oops!  
> Oh well, here's the second scrap. It's too... much. But I find it funny, so maybe you will, too?

There are too many red dresses.

“You're like a sexy, Jewish Mrs. Claus,” Lenny mumbles as she's getting dressed.

“Hey!” Midge shouts, because she hasn't seen his face.

“I said ' _sexy_ ', Mrs. Claus!” he counters.

She laughs, a harsh, breathless bark, and whirls around, prepared to throw a towel at him.

But Lenny's already right behind her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling the flimsy weapon from her hands.

“I'd convert if you were the one sneaking down my chimney every Christmas,” he jokes in a whisper against her ear.

He's careful of her hair, but her lipstick is in grave danger. He's seen her do the trick with the dress hung in the steam while the tap runs, so he isn't worried about the wrinkles. The frustrated and surprised giggling fades into soft sighs, and her mouth is on his neck.

Somewhere behind them an alarm goes off.

“What the hell is that?” Lenny asks.

“I have to get moving,” Midge sighs, pulling away and moving to silence the clock on the nightstand.

“You set an alarm?”

“Susie will never let me hear the end of it if I'm late. And I knew _you_ would be a distraction,” she accuses.

His hands go up in mock defense, but his smirk is so self-satisfied.

“Shit, I got your collar,” Midge says as she comes back to him, admiring the shade of her lipstick on his skin. “Do you have another shirt here?”

She knows he doesn't.

Midge tugs his shirt from the waist of his pants and has it unbuttoned before he can protest.

“Off,” she commands as she turns the shower as hot as it will go.

Lenny watches her with that poorly concealed curiosity of his. Fastening her watch around her delicate wrist. Spraying hairspray all over the collar of his shirt. Rolling her stockings up and fastening them. Balancing carefully on the edge of the bathtub while squinting across at the fogging mirror to fix her face and reapply her lipstick. Checking the time every few moments.

“I have to go,” she says, though she's holding a washcloth under the stream of hot water as she says it. She swipes the stains from his shirt, tosses it at him, then tugs at her dress to smooth it.

“That still needs washing, but it will get you through the evening,” she says, indicating the shirt he's currently fingering with awe while she steps into her high heeled shoes.

She's a crimson whirlwind. A well of domestic magic disguised behind obscene curves and delicate features.

Her lips on his cheek pull him from his reverie.

“See you later?” The lingering uncertainty in her question is almost heartbreaking.

“See you later,” he agrees, and her smile is beautiful and confident again. “Knock em dead.”

…

When Lenny meets Midge outside the club that night, he brings his suitcase with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. 
> 
> (Fun fact (that's no longer fun)/full disclosure: the red dress was inspired by the only LDR song I can actually stand, "Summertime Sadness." In light of recent events, however, I have removed it from my writing playlist rotation. Let's say it was inspire by _The Matrix_ instead.)
> 
> Also, the chapter title is something my dad and his corny dad friends used to say when I was a kid, and is also a song I heard on Prairie Home Companion once. JSYK.
> 
> Thanks again!


	3. Farmstand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This would have come later. It started out inspired by an old black and white photograph of a man kissing a laughing woman reflected in a side-view mirror, then picked up details as I read _How to Talk Dirty and Influence People_ , and then kept accumulating little details as I sank deeper into my Bruce fixation/research hole...  
> There's really mostly my own fascination going on in here, with hints of a complicated relationship alongside. I'll also mention that when I attempted to edit it for public consumption it just got longer, so it's a bit more than a scrap... But maybe you'll enjoy it(?).

“Listen, I've got a car for a few days, and I was wondering if you'd like to take a drive?”

Lenny Bruce had called Midge up, out of the blue, after months of distance, and yet it was like no time had passed at all.

“Where are we going?”

“It's a surprise,” he'd said.

“Have you met me? How will I know what to wear if it's a surprise?”

“Nothing fancy,” he said. “I'd love some company, though.”

He used the L-word. She had before, too, technically, but they never directed it toward each other. It was always for something else.

_'I love dancing. Why don't I do this more?' - 'You'll love this place.' - 'What's not to love about it?' - 'I love this song...'_

“Okay,” she'd said.

…

Midge settled into the passenger seat of a large black convertible. Lenny wore denim pants and a short sleeved shirt, looking the most casual Midge had ever seen him while actually clothed. She was glad, then, for her flats, capri pants, and the kerchief around her hair.

“Where to?” Lenny asked.

“Huh-uh, this is your adventure.”

“Just checking,” he said, smirking sideways at her. “Alright then. Ready?”

The familiar, weighted tension that often opened their interactions made itself known, and they were silent as Lenny steered them out of the city. Midge felt the desire to reach across the seat and lay her hand on Lenny's knee or thigh, but she fought it.

She felt her nerves rise as they rolled through Queens, and began a bit about her ex mothers-in-law that helped break up the weight of what had settled between them.

She liked it when Lenny smiled at her, though she liked it better when his eyes stayed on the road.

She segued into some improvisational radio after a while, as it became clear they were heading further out on Long Island, and she worked at pulling steady laughter from him. They were somewhere near Garden City, Midge thought, when Lenny pulled over to keep from wrecking, laughing so hard he had to squeeze his eyes shut to keep from crying.

“Alright, alright,” he muttered as he caught his breath, though he still smiled across the bench seat at Midge. She smirked back “You think you're so funny, don't you?” he teased, shaking a finger in her direction, and her smirk became a Cheshire grin as she grabbed for his hand.

“Where are we going?” she asked, grasping his fingers in hers.

Lenny shook his head, then glanced up at the accumulating clouds. “The car wash, looks like,” he said, simultaneously pulling their clasped hands toward himself and leaning into her space. He caught her lips in one of those unexpectedly soft kisses that tended to shut Midge's brain down, and the nervous energy went out of her completely.

Lenny put the top up before steering them back onto the road, further into parts of Long Island Midge was unfamiliar with. As the skies darkened overhead, traffic streamed the opposite direction, back toward the city, though the rain held off. They meandered through villages and hamlets until Midge accused Lenny of being lost, which devolved into a back and forth squabble between laughing alter-egos.

Midge spied a farm stand and pestered Lenny to stop. A young man, probably no more than sixteen, jogged toward the car and Midge leaned over Lenny to smile at the boy through the open window.

“Young man, would you please tell this geezer where we are?” she asked as she pulled off her sunglasses. The boy hesitated, glancing back and forth between the bright eyed woman and the man whose frown kept twitching as he glared through the windshield. He told them where they were.

“And do you have any eggs?” Lenny asked, turning suddenly and startling both the boy and the woman half-way in his lap and leaning out the window.

“Yessir,” the boy confirmed, and rushed to bring a box back to the shiny car.

Lenny examined the dozen eggs with a curious intensity before he nodded and asked Midge to take some money from the wallet in the glove box. When she made to hand him the bills he kissed her instead, this time with a shameless passion that made them both groan, and the boy at their window blush.

“You give it to him,” Lenny said against her lips, and Midge crawled over him again to lean out and pay the boy, who gaped down at her and took the money.

“Keep the change,” Lenny said, and the boy managed to choke out a few words of thanks as Midge smiled at him and settled back in her seat.

“Best show he's seen in weeks, I guarantee it,” Lenny said as he turned the car back the way they'd come, and Midge swatted his shoulder. But she couldn't keep a stern face on, and laughed along with his smile.

Lenny turned southward and settled on a new and definitive course.

…

They pulled onto a dirt road, and Lenny brought the big car around in a half circle so they sat facing a white farmhouse. A few heads far out in the field raised for a moment, peering at the shiny black Lincoln before returning to their work.

Midge watched Lenny stare across the road at the white clapboard, watched a smile slowly fade on his face and be replaced with one of those sad looks that made her want to kiss his pain away. A faint hint of the smile rose again at the edges of his mouth, but it didn't make it to his eyes, or smooth his furrowed brow.

“Lenny,” she said, low and tentative, and shifted closer to him along the bench seat. He glanced at her, tore his eyes away from the green shutters and wrap-around porch just long enough to take her hand in his.

“Where are we?” Midge asked. She knew they weren't lost anymore. She was almost certain this was where Lenny had been intending to go all along, but she had no way of knowing why. His thumb brushed back and forth over her knuckles several times before he let her go and plucked a cigarette from his shirt pocket.

He offered her a cigarette as well, and it began to drizzle as he lit each one. The rain fell harder as they smoked, and the farmhands in the field migrated toward a pick up truck, then zoomed past the parked car in a quickly dissipating dust cloud. Lenny barely acknowledged the passing truck, just stared across the road, smoking, and occasionally squeezed Midge's hand again.

A few more farm vehicles went by on the main road, but no more came in from the field. The white farmhouse turned grey in the poor light and rain, its windows dark. Lenny finished his cigarette and flicked it away out the cracked window, then sighed into the steering wheel.

“Lenny,” Midge tried again, gentle. “What are we doing here?”

He turned an achingly distant look her direction, a series of shifting emotions and expressions washing over his face as his eyes refocused on her. He smiled as he seemed to recognize her again, and a smile of her own broke over her face in automatic response.

“I lived there, once,” Lenny said, gesturing through the windshield at the old farmhouse. Midge's eyes went big and round as she looked back through the pissing rain at the looming house and its dark windows.

“On a _farm_?” The disbelief in her voice made Lenny laugh.

He smiled and nodded when she turned back to him, and laughed some more at her shaking head.

“Full of surprises,” Midge whispered, and Lenny kissed her.

Not gentle, or desperate with passion. With something _just enough._ A sincere expression of happiness in the weight of it. A kiss that seemed to say he wasn't going to explain himself, but that he was glad she was there with him. It didn't last long, but it _was_ enough. Their silent agreement, an understanding. The thing that tempted the use of words they couldn't afford.

Lenny pulled back and took the forgotten cigarette from Midge's hand, finished it himself, then flicked that away, too.

…

They drove south along the main road, toward the water, saying nothing about the farmhouse or the past. The rain let up, but the clouds remained, casting everything in silvery grey tones, a mist hanging in the air. The man at the state park gates warned them against going out onto the beaches, but admitted they would probably be fine as long as a lightning storm didn't roll in with the next wave of rain.

They pulled on jackets, and Midge adjusted the kerchief about her hair. Lenny untied his tennis shoes and shoved his socks down into the toes, rolled up the denim pant legs a few times, and scuffed his feet into the cold sand. Midge slipped out of her shoes as well, toes curling against the chill that ran up her legs.

Their arms found their way around each other and they strolled to the water's edge together, laughing at the absurdity of walking a beach in the rain, but enjoying the solitude. Lenny tried to pull her out into the water, but Midge shrieked and laughed, dashing away up the beach at the first touch of the icy ocean.

They chased and teased and coerced and laughed. Running along at arms length, fingers laced. Dashing in and out of the surf, bumps erupting along their skin with the cold. Kicking up sand and water, utterly failing to remain dry.

When the rain inevitably returned, they sheltered under the overhang of a concession stand, told the bored teenager inside a progression of ever dirtier jokes in exchange for hotdogs, then dashed back down the sand to the car. They huddled together in the back seat, pealing off wet jackets and brushing sand to the floor.

“Will your friend be upset about the mess?” Midge asked as Lenny rubbed his hands up and down her arms to warm her.

He brushed off her concern, and pulled her closer. They lay across each other, leaning into the faint heat between their bodies until the car warmed enough for the heater to be effective. Midge had never dated anyone with a car in high school, but she felt like an all-American, hot-blooded teenager from a movie as they held onto one another in the back of a borrowed car, and she said so. Lenny's response was to untie the sodden kerchief, run his fingers through her damp hair, and press his lips against her neck.

…

The heat in the car, the vibration of the road, and the rhythmic tapping of rain lulled Midge into near-sleep as Lenny drove back toward the city with her head on his shoulder.

The noise and stop-and-go jolt of city traffic brought Midge back to herself, and she straightened herself up as best she could in the passenger seat.

“You should come up and clean up,” she said as they neared Riverside and 113th. Lenny had never been in her home before, and the heavy, silent tension rose between them again. But Lenny found a parking place for the car and came around to help Midge out. He carried the farm stand eggs under one arm and offered her the other.

Midge dropped his arm as they entered the elevator, and Lenny was twitchy and silent as she chatted amiably with Jerry, but the old man didn't comment on _Ms. Weissman_ 's guest. When she thanked the elevator attendant at her floor, Lenny echoed with a faint, “Thank you, Jerry,” of his own.

Lenny's hesitation and anxiety was palpable as Midge unlocked the apartment door. They stood at a new and strange precipice.

“No one's home,” she said, and looped her arm back through his, pulling him inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a dangerous thing to fall in love with the fictional version of a person. If you think about it, though, that's pretty much how it always works. We love what we see on the surface and what we think we know, and hopefully we continue to love them as we are shown and learn more... 
> 
> I'm trying to keep from going tragic, but I definitely have a lot of tearjerking thoughts about how things would move forward for Midge and Lenny, which is why this stayed vague. There's a little more cut-for-time/cutting-room-floor material that I'm considering posting, that feels quite bittersweet to me, but I haven't decided. So, for now, this will get marked complete, and I guess it will pop back up in the listings if/when I add the last bits. 
> 
> Thank you for reading and entertaining my anxious little self-indulgences. Wishing you all the best <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.


End file.
